


Wolf In The Fold

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-16
Updated: 2000-01-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: Holy Water Coffee, Bite for a Bite and a Blood Hunt. Watch out Ray!This story is a sequel toLilith and Al.





	Wolf In The Fold

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "Wolf In The Fold" 
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes 
    Rating: R 
    Emails:, 
    Series: The Mountie Slayer 
    Notes: For more info on Gangrel and Vampire clans, visit your local gaming
    store...:)  
    ----- 
     
    Constable Benton Fraser, RCMS, confined once again to a hospital bed,
    turned on the reading lamp in the otherwise darkened room.  The small
    light cast a warm glow, barely illuminating the face of the man in the
    next bed.  Fraser  smiled to himself.  He had always gotten immense satisfaction
    out of watching Ray Kowalski sleep.  Now that the doctors had assured
    him that Ellery's blood was dormant after Ray's recent trauma, the moment
    was all the  more precious. 
    
    Fraser knew the next step in the healing process would come when Ray
    was well enough to realise he was in a hospital - a thing he despised
    beyond telling - and started clambering for release.  He could only 
    hope that his own presence here in the hospital would keep Ray calm and
    perhaps extend his stay until the doctors, not Ray, released him.  
    On the bed beside Ray, Diefenbaker lay asleep, his tiny hand clasped
    in Ray's. A wolf no more, he held the form of a small child, perhaps
    six years old, with fair hair and gold eyes.  He had killed Ellery two
    years ago,  saving Ray's life and forever changing his own.  They were
    blood kin now, linked through the vampire's blood, sharing feelings and
    reactions. And life. Huey and Dewey's white lie about Dief being Ray's
    son was now true. 
       
    Dief would not leave Ray's side unless ordered, and since he clearly
    needed to be here, Fraser could not chase him away.  He was fascinated
    rather than jealous.  
    The new bond only united them all even closer than before and secretly
    Fraser hoped that Diefenbaker's ravenous appetite might rub off on the
    scrawny American and he might actually gain some weight, a task Fraser
    had  been laboring in vain to accomplish since he'd met Ray. 
     
    A soft knock at the door.  Fraser squinted as light poured into the room
    from the hall and he recognized the two silhouettes.  
    "Sir." He greeted Inspector Margaret Thatcher with a smile, trying to
    sit up straighter despite the traction. Her arm was in a sling and her
    knee in a brace, but she was mobile and she smiled in return.  
    "Constable, how are you?" she whispered, mindful of Ray. 
     
    "Well, sir.  And you?" 
     
    "Healing.  Turnbull and I are going to be spending the next few weeks
    locating a new building for the Consulate, so you have medical leave
    until you're fit for duty.  I understand you'll be needing physical therapy,
    so when we do resume duties on a normal basis, you will be confined to
    the tasks the doctors allow."  
    "Understood, sir.  Thank you." 
     
    "How is Detective Kowalski?" 
     
    "He's doing well, sir. I believe he'll be released before me." 
     
    "Keep me posted.  I believe Turnbull wants to spend a few moments with
    you and I have one last appointment with a physical therapist.  Turnbull,
    I'll meet you in the lobby in an hour."  
    "Yes, ma'am," replied the younger constable, stepping aside to let her
    pass. Hands clasped behind his back, Turnbull smiled his bland, guileless
    smile.  
    "Thank you, sir," whispered Fraser, speaking not to Constable Renfield
    Turnbull, but to the Seeker.  
    It was the Seeker who laid a hand on Fraser's arm, a gesture the Constable
    would never have dreamt of doing.  
    "I am glad to have helped." 
     
    "The Gangrel-?" 
     
    "They were extradited to the territories yesterday.  The clan we dealt
    with swore an oath.  Ray and Dief are safe from that branch.  Perhaps
    not others, but Calhoun's clan will defend them, if only to make sure
    no other clan gets Ellery's line before they figure a way around their
    oath.  For now he's...one of there own. Will you tell him?"  
    Fraser glanced at the bed beside his and then at his sleeping partner.
    "I'll have to.  For his own safety.  Not yet, though."  
    "I understand." 
     
    "Was it very bad?" 
     
    Seeker Turnbull looked pained. "I've never seen a letting ceremony. 
    I'm sorry that it happened to a friend...your friend." It had been gruesome
    and painful. And not something his superior need know about unless the
    detective wanted it known.  
    "You found him in time and he's safe.  That's all I care about, Seeker."
    
    "Calhoun's clan got more than they bargained for, apparently.  Ray's
    flashes affected them. Gardino sent him a flash just as Ray Vecchio and
    I entered. That, I believe, was why he was laughing."  
    "That makes sense.  Ray Vecchio was afraid he'd lost his mind." 
     
    "He's stronger than that.  What of the werewolf?" 
     
    "He's human more than wolf now." 
     
    "Has he ever aged in human form?" 
     
    "Never." 
     
    "Strange." 
     
    "He's not pure werewolf.  I'm not entirely sure /what/ he is." 
     
    "He's your friend.  As am I." 
     
    "I know. Thank you.  Thank you kindly." 
     
    "I'll go wait for the inspector. If you need anything, sir, please just
    ca - oh. We don't have a phone any more."  Turnbull frowned, thinking,
    and Fraser realised the Seeker was gone once again.  
    "I have Inspector Thatcher's cell phone number.  I'll call her if I need
    anything."  
    "Ah.  Excellent idea, sir.  I'll be by tomorrow.  Please give my best
    regards to Detective Kowalski."  
    "Thank you, Turnbull." 
     
    *** 
     
    One hour later... 
     
    "I need to talk to her." 
     
    Ray slowly opened his eyes, not quite sure where he was. He looked around,
    slowly. Fraser was asleep in the other bed. Dief was clutching his hand,
    tight. He winced. There was an IV dripping blood into his arm. He still
    felt weak and woozy.  
    "Kowalski...Stan." Vecchio whispered, not wanting to wake Fraser up.
    "I need to talk to Irene."  
    Ray looked at him, almost not comprehending. Yeah...ok." He nodded, his
    gaze going to Irene. "She says she loves you."  
    "Does she?" Vecchio let out a breath. "She's not angry with me?" He looked
    nervous.  
    "Why would I be..." Irene started, and Ray finished by adding "angry
    with you?"  
    Vecchio turned toward the window. "Because of Stella." 
     
    Ray sat up as best he could. He saw the bandages on his arms and legs.
    "God..." He felt a weird sensation as Irene's hand brushed against his
    face.  
    "I'm not angry. Concerned..." 
     
    "She's worried." 
     
    "Why?" 
     
    "Because of what Stella is. What she can do." Irene smiled, gently. Ray
    repeated it.  
    Vecchio sighed, shaking his head. No way. No way did Irene think that.
    She had to be angry at him for betraying her, for leaving her memory.
    "Right." He turned to Kowalski. "This is about /her/, isn't it?"  
    "Huh?" Ray wondered.  "Her?" 
     
    "Stella.  You're still in love with her, aren't you?  You can't let go...can't
    stand to see me with her so you throw Irene in my face."  
    "Oh, Ray," breathed Irene sadly.  "Why can't you believe me?" 
     
    "I love Stella, yeah.  That's kinda the down side of vengeance demons,
    you never really get over them.  I'm not /in/ love with her any more,
    Vecchio." //'Cause I got the Mountie and you didn't,// he thought.  //Keep
    the  Stella.// 
     
    "Ray?" 
     
    "Hmm?" He returned his attention to the shimmering figure beside Vecchio.
    "I want you to repeat what I tell you."  
    "'Kay. Shoot." 
     
    "The first time I kissed you-" 
     
    "Do I hafta say it like THAT?" 
     
    "No."  She almost laughed as she realised what she'd done.  "The first
    time I kissed Ray, we were going to a high school dance.  My mother drove
    me and my brother and Ray and Maria, our friend Vito. It was held in
    the high school gymnasium.  I wore a green taffeta dress and had my hair
    up and my mother let me wear make-up the first time that night. Ray was
    so shy, he couldn't even look at me.  I waited all night for him to ask
    me to dance and  he finally did - the very last dance of the night. 
    Tell him." 
     
    Ray spoke, aided and corrected occasionally.  Ray Vecchio grew pale.
    
    "We were about to go when I realised I had lost one of the pearl earrings
    my mother had loaned me.  I started crying because they had been my grandmother's
    and were very precious to her.  We started looking, me and Ray  and Tony
    and Vito and Maria.  We looked and looked and I begged the janitor to
    tell me if he found it and I was so afraid to tell my mother."  
    Ray spoke, leaning back into the pillows, his voice weak. 
     
    "Finally we had to go home.  I didn't tell my mother that night or the
    next morning.  When I got to school, Ray was already there. He had found
    the earring in the gym, stuck in one of the brooms.  He'd been there
    since six in the morning looking."  
    There were tears in her eyes and in her voice. Vecchio looked a million
    miles away.  
    "I was so happy and so proud when he gave me that pearl I kissed him.
    It was the most generous and kind thing anyone had ever done for me."
    
    Vecchio was staring at the man in the bed, his mind awhirl. 
     
    "Can he believe me now?" 
     
    "Can you believe her now?  She's just worried for ya." 
     
    "How the hell can you know this?  What the hell are you?" breathed Vecchio.
    How could she have so easily forgiven him for destroying her life, their
    future?  Why did she go to Kowalski, not...him?  
    "Huh?  Now what're you talkin' about?" 
     
    You're...god, you're..."  He shook his head, looking sick.  He rose abruptly,
    backing away as if Ray could actually do him some mischief.  
    "Ray, don't," begged Irene, though she understood his fears.  The Catholic
    Church had little tolerance for the undead and their kin. Irene knew
    Ray was having trouble reconciling his mother and Father Behan to Stella's
    presence.  Now Rosa Vecchio's substitute son was nearly a vampire and
    no one had told her yet.  
    "I..." Vecchio was breathing hard. 
     
    "He's confused," Irene said to Kowalski, begging his pardon for Vecchio's
    behavior.  
    "S'okay, Irene," whispered Kowalski, feeling sleep tugging at him again.
    
    "Stay away from me, Kowalski," Vecchio heard himself hiss.  "And stay
    away from my family!"  
    Ray Vecchio fled the room, slamming the door behind him and making all
    three occupants of the room jump in rude awakening.  
    "Who was that, Ray?" wondered Fraser, his voice hoarse and sleepy.  
    
    "The other Ray," mumbled the American. "The one I'm better at bein' than
    he is, Frase."  
    Fraser's head dropped back onto the pillows.  "Oh dear." 
     
    "Yeah. Oh dear." 
     
    *** 
     
    One month later: 
     
    Fraser and Vecchio had never discussed what had transpired between the
    two Rays in the hospital. Fraser didn't think they ever would. Indeed,
    he had seen little of his friend, spending most of his time recovering
    from his broken leg and caring for Ray, even as the detective cared for
    him.  Fraser had moved into Ray's apartment since a new Consulate had
    yet to be chosen and he certainly couldn't hunt for a new place to live
    with his leg in a cast. 
    
    The last month had been trying, but in a way that builds rather than
    wears down.  Ray had a lot of adjusting to do. The first week in the
    hospital had seen him go for emergency surgery to remove the silver fillings
    from his teeth and replace them with ceramic when he developed a severe
    sensitivity to the metal.  He now had to wear tinted glasses all the
    time, too, and dark sunglasses outside and even at night and the doctors
    warned him to avoid too much sunlight.  
    
    Ray was as cranky as could be expected, but he diverted himself by worrying
    about Fraser and bracing himself to go back to work in another week.
    
    The message had come in the mail, an unmarked and envelope addressed
    to Constable Benton Fraser, RCMS, with no further writing.  Ray was out,
    having taken Dief for a walk and Fraser, his leg just out of the cast,
    did not feel up to walking just yet.  
    The letter was precise, neatly written, and polite.  A request for a
    meeting and a discussion with Ray's friend.  He couldn't refuse.  
    So now, two days later, he sat in front of Calhoun, the elder pro-temp
    of the Gangrel clan. They were in the cafe Calhoun had suggested, public
    enough for Fraser to feel safe and private enough for conversation. Untouched
    cups of tea sat between them and no pleasantries were exchanged.  
    "We have a problem," Calhoun stated, bluntly. "Your friend. The Neo-Gangrel
    Ghoulite."  
    "We won't allow you to hurt him, your oath with the Seeker clearly states-"
    Fraser started.  
    Calhoun shook his head, abruptly. "No. See that's the problem, Slayer.
    According to old rules from before we let ourselves be known to you humans-"
    
    He broke off.  It was a fact Calhoun was neither proud nor happy about.
    He shook his head, starting over. "If Elder Ellery had lived, Kowalski
    would have just been his retainer. Your...garou wolf killed him."  
    Fraser nodded, "Yes. I don't apologize for that." 
     
    "Thing of it is, there are very old rules, the Gangrel are the eldest
    clan. From both Lilith and Caine."  
    "What are you saying?" 
     
    "According to the rules, Stanley Kowalski is our elder." Calhoun felt
    a chuckle bubble up. "And he's not even a vampire."  The irony of the
    situation seemed to strike him just then and he shook his head.  
    "How can that be?" Fraser leaned forward. 
     
    Calhoun shrugged, "There's evidence that Elder Ellery was discontent.
    He wished to die. Rise up, I suppose. He'd been following your friend
    for weeks before his death. I guess he remembered him from some incident.
    An altercation, perhaps?" 
     
    "Ray was just a boy at the time." 
     
    "His conduct and bearing must have impressed the elder.  Enough that
    he would trust him with his line. Kowalski has no concept of the gift
    he's been given."  
    "Ray doesn't see it that way at all." 
     
    "That will make this all the more difficult." 
     
    "Make what difficult?" 
     
    "He's a half breed. Not vampire, not human. Not even dead. But he's our
    clan elder." Calhoun held up a hand before Fraser could protest. "The
    Council  will send a blood hunt after him if he doesn't comply. They'll
    consider him Autarkis. An outsider. We can't protect him from that."
    
    *** 
     
    "I won't." 
     
    "Ray." 
     
    "Don't Ray me, Fraser. I won't." Ray shook his head, checking the oven
    to make sure the pizza wasn't burning. "You can't force me to be like
    them."  
    "No one's trying to force you to do anything..." 
     
    "What're you doin' then, huh? Talking to the guy who did those things..."
    He shuddered, and felt Fraser's hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it
    away, hoping Fraser wouldn't feel him trembling at the memories dredged
    up at the  mention of last month's incidents.  
    
    He remembered it all too well and he was still sorting out his reactions
    to the whole episode: the flashes, the letting, Lady Killer's abuses...
    
    "We're trying to help you. We're trying to keep you alive." 
     
    "I'm capable of that, Frase." 
     
    "I know. But I want to help." 
     
    Ray leaned against the pillar in the kitchen, one hand holding his head,
    his other arm wrapped tight about his middle.  He looked pathetic and
    rumpled and absolutely irresistible in his helplessness. As if Ray was
    the most fragile and precious thing in the world, he enfolded the American
    in his embrace.  
    
    Ray bent his head to lean on the Mountie's broad chest, letting Fraser's
    warmth sooth him.  Letting the Mountie protect him.  They stood like
    that for a long time, then Ray raised his eyes.  
    He didn't have his glasses on. Fraser was looking into unfamiliar blackness,
    barely ringed by blue. Ray's whole soul was reflected there in those
    dark eyes: he was afraid.  Not of Calhoun, but of losing Fraser.  If
    Fraser was lost, so was he.  
    "I know," echoed Fraser, running his fingers through the soft blond hair.
    "I know."  
    *** 
     
    One week later: 
     
    He was nervous and worse as he entered the detective bureau.  It was
    relatively quiet for the time of day, but then he had noticed an odd
    silence following in his wake when he walked through the precinct.  The
    first desk he passed was Francesca's and he paused as she smiled up at
    him.  
    "Hey, bro," she teased gently, taking in his still-pale appearance. 
    
    He smiled, glad she was relaxed enough to play.  "Hey, Frannie."  
    
    "You-you okay and everything?" 
     
    "Pretty much.  I just gotta wear gloves to load the silver bullets. 
    Other than that, I'm cool."  
    "In you own mind, maybe." 
     
    He laughed even as her phone started to ring.  "Same sweet, lovable Frannie."
    
    She flashed him another smile and he turned away.  Maybe this wouldn't
    be so difficult after all.  The bull pen was almost empty and Ray found
    himself grateful he wouldn't be forced to wade through Huey's and Dewey's
    commentary to get to his own desk.  No Vecchio, either.  Ray sighed.
    He rather missed Irene, but Vecchio had made himself scarce since he'd
    visited Ray in the hospital.  
    He was making headway through more than a month of mail and accumulated
    paperwork when he became aware he was being observed.  He looked up to
    see Dewey lounging by his desk, watching him.  
    "Something wrong, Dewey?" he demanded, returning to sorting mail.  
    
    "No." 
     
    "Why ya staring?" 
     
    "Just wondering." 
     
    //Shit.//  Why was he suddenly anxious?  He ignored Dewey, but the pesky
    detective would not go away.  
    "You always wear glasses?" Dewey asked abruptly. 
     
    "Only when I wanna see." 
     
    "What's with the sun glasses?" 
     
    "I wanna see right now." 
     
    "You're wearing sun glasses...inside." 
     
    "I busted my other ones.  Happy?" Not a lie. He had broken the gray tinted
    glasses that the doctors had given him. Replacements were on order. 
    
    "Sure," Dewey said casually, slinking away.  Ray returned to work but
    there was a nagging feeling. They were up to something.  
    *** 
     
    Fraser was making Dief's lunch when he noticed the slight change in Dief's
    behavior. He looked sadder, nervous. He raised an eyebrow. He was worried
    about Ray, knowing that the vampires had begun the blood hunt. He hoped
    Calhoun could prolong the beginning of it.  
    *** 
     
    "Hey, Ray!" 
     
    "Hmm?  Oh, hiya Huey." 
     
    "There's fresh coffee in the back.  You look like you could use a cup."
    
    "Oh, yeah.  Good idea. Thanks." 
     
    He wove through the desks to the break room where a few uniformed officers
    sat chatting.  Ray sniffed at an unpleasant smell in the air, but pushed
    on in.  Now that Huey mentioned it, he did need a cup.  
    One of the uniformed officers was pouring himself a cup and poured one
    for Ray as well, watching the detective as he handed it over.  
    "Thanks."  Ray frowned, then smelled the contents of the cup.  Revolting.
    The coffee...it was made with holy water.  These bastards.  
    They were watching. 
     
    Waiting. 
     
    Testing and teasing him. 
     
    //Probably have a fucking pool going on,// he thought. 
     
    He found a sugar cube and dropped it in the cup, stirring it with a straw.
    
    "See you guys," he said casually, waving to the officers.  At Huey's
    desk he paused.  "This stuff is almost as good as tar today." Probably
    tasted like raw sewage again. But what could it possibly do?  
    Bastards. 
     
    He took a sip. Felt it hit his stomach like a brick. He was gonna regret
    that later.  
    *** 
     
    Benton Fraser looked up in surprise as Diefenbaker whined.  The little
    boy stopped playing with the laundry and just sat down, looking miserable.
    
    "Dief?" 
     
    Stiff-kneed, Fraser knelt beside him, reaching out to stroke the fair,
    unruly hair. The werewolf leaned into his hand, seeking comfort.  
    "What's wrong? Is it Ray?  Perhaps I should call him." 
     
    *** 
     
    "Ray?" 
     
    "Hi, frase." 
     
    "How are you? How's the first day back? You sound strange..." 
     
    "S'okay. The jerks are still jerks an' all that." 
     
    "Ray, are the other detectives being unkind?" 
     
    "Juvenile is the word. What's up?" 
     
    "Diefenbaker misses you." 
     
    "He behaving?" 
     
    "Actually, Ray, I've been observing him for days and despite his appearance,
    his behavioral patterns are unchanged, as is his personality.  I believe
    he's confused without a tail, but otherwise he's the same werewolf."
    
    "Frase?" 
     
    "Yes?" 
     
    "Are ya sure yer okay with dis?" 
     
    //Ah, the accent thickens,// thought the Mountie affectionately.  Aloud
    he said, "Of course, Ray, why wouldn't I be?"  
    "He IS yours." 
     
    "You don't own werewolves, Ray.  They choose to stay with you or not."
    
    "Same go for mounted Slayers?" 
     
    "If you'll have me." 
     
    "Definitely." 
     
    "Dinner will be ready when you get home." 
     
    "Greatness.  See you then." 
     
    Then Frannie brought him the envelope. It looked innocent enough, a thin
    white envelope sealed shut. He thanked her, flicking it open with a fingernail.
    Confetti fell out, as did something hard.  
    And hot. Very hot. He dropped it like a hot potato, biting back a cry
    of pain. He saw the silver dime, stared at it. Looked at Frannie with
    a sense of betrayal in his eyes.  
    Not her. Not her too. 
     
    He felt the holy water bubble up, and barely made it to the bathroom
    in time.  
    **** 
     
    "Ray!  Ray!  Stanley Raymond Kowalski, you answer me right now, mister,
    or I'm coming in there and I don't care what you're doing!"  
    Francesca Vecchio tapped her foot impatiently, then with a low growl
    that would have suited Dief better than her, she shoved the door of the
    men's room open with a bang. She'd seen her mother in righteous furies
    often enough to do a fair imitation. Not that she was mad at Ray.  Not
    yet, anyway.  After all, she wanted to know why he'd acted so hurt before
    she either added or subtracted her own two cents to his dilemma, whatever
    that was.  
    A rookie cop appeared in the door.  "Uh, ma'am?" he gulped. 
     
    "Scram, junior, I'm on a mission," she ordered.  "Use the ladies, this
    one's taken."  
    She heard a strangled sound from the stall in the corner. 
     
    "Ray?" she asked, a little frightened now. 
     
    He was on the floor, his back to the wall and his long legs at uncomfortable
    angles in the cramped space.  He had vomited into the toilet and now
    sat shivering and miserable, clutching his right hand to his chest. 
    He still wore the dark glasses, but tears slid down his cheeks and he
    didn't look at her or acknowledge her presence.  
    "Ray?  Ray, what's wrong?  What happened?" 
     
    "Leave me alone, Frannie," he whispered. 
     
    "No.  I want to know what happened.  What was with that look you gave
    me? What happened with that envelope?  It's just an old dime, y'know,
    before they sandwiched them."  
    "It's silver." 
     
    "Sil-ohhhhhh."She remembered his comment about the silver bullets he
    always had to carry.  She thought it was a joke.  And now she had been
    made to hurt him.  Sure he drove her nuts, but he was her brother.  Sorta.
    Anyway, he was family, just like Fraser, and no one did this to her family.
    
    "Let me see your hand." 
     
    He shook his hand, but gave it anyway. She inspected it, clucking just
    like a mother hen. "It's not that bad a burn. A little salve. Shouldn't
    have made you sick."  
    "Wasn't that." 
     
    "What then?" She looked up, sharply. Sat down beside him.  She heard
    the door to the bathroom open, and shut the stall door.  
    He bent over, head in hands. He felt queasy again. "Holy water. They
    made coffee with holy water."  
    Vecchio froze as he washed his hands. He'd suspected something was going
    on, had heard the Duck Brothers betting on Kowalski. He hadn't thought
    anyone  would actually try to hurt him. He shook his hands dry, and burst
    out of the bathroom.  
    He grabbed Huey by the back of his shirt, shocked by the rage he felt.
    "What the hell are you doing?"  
    "What?" 
     
    "The holy water! Who the hell made coffee with holy water then let Kowalski
    drink it?  Do you know what that could do to him?"  He turned, letting
    his fury encompass Dewey as well.  "Both of you - in the bathroom. Now."
    
    Ray appropriated the same rookie from before and had him stand guard
    at the bathroom door as he herded the two protesting and confused detectives
    inside.  Kowalski was vomiting again, not even able to stand.  
    "Frannie," he called his sister. 
     
    She looked up. "Get me something to wipe his face with." 
     
    "You two proud of yourselves now?" he demanded as he got her some towels.
    He wet them in the sink and handed them to her.  
    "Here. Before he loses them." She handed over the glasses and Kowalski
    winced at the assault on his eyes. "Turn off the lights."  
    Dewey hit the lights, blinking against the sudden darkness. "Is he ok?"
    
    "Whaddyou care?" Ray blurted out before another wave of nausea hit. "Fucking
    asshole..." He felt like crap, Probably looked worse. Right now he hated
    every single one of them.  
    "Someone should call Fraser," Frannie suggested, her hand on Ray's back
    as she gently wiped the sweat from his face.  
    "no...don't bug him..." 
     
    Vecchio glared at the two detectives one last time. "I'll take him home."
    He helped the unsteady Kowalski to his feet, pushing the glasses back
    on his face. "Tell Welsh /exactly/ what these two jerks did, Frannie."
    
    "You got it." 
     
    Dewey looked at brother and sister with wide-eyed confusion.  "We didn't
    do this."  
    Frannie glowered, remembering Dewey's exchange about Ray's glasses and
    demanded, "Oh, yeah, chopstick?  Then who did?"  
    *** 
     
    Ray wouldn't even look at him, muttering answers to Vecchio's questions,
    but not looking. He stopped at the light, quietly.  
    And then the shooting started. 
     
    "What the-" screamed Vecchio. 
     
    Kowalski threw himself down on the seat as the windshield shattered,
    yanking Vecchio down as broken glass showered them.  Screams erupted
    as gunfire swept the front of the Riviera and both Rays winced at the
    too-familiar sound. Kowalski felt something slam into his side and let
    out a shout of pain that all but deafened the Italian.  
    "Drive!  Drive!  Get us out of here!" yelled Kowalski, then gasped as
    his ribs protested.  "It's me!  They're after me!"  
    "Where am I driving, Stan?" Vecchio demanded. "Hospital? Fraser?"  
    
    "Dunno...somewhere safe..." He clutched his side, breathing hard.  
    
    "You okay?" 
     
    "Kinda burns..." 
     
    "Silver?" 
     
    "No. Maybe. Like the water..." 
     
    Turnbull. The seeker. Turnbull would know what to do. Vecchio swung the
    wheel of the car, cursing the damage to yet another Riv. How many did
    this make? He sighed, "Turnbull."  
    "What?" 
     
    "Nothing. Sit tight." 
     
    *** 
     
    Turnbull opened the door of the temporary office the consulate was housed
    in while they waited for the new one to be finished with renovations.
    Thatcher was off getting supplies for a blessing spell and would not
    be back until  the following morning, so he was alone. He gasped as the
    two Rays stumbled in.  
    "Someone's taking pot shots at him. Silver bullets. Why?" Vecchio demanded.
    
    A stern expression replaced the excited one.  "First things first. I
    want to see how badly he's wounded."  Turnbull closed the door the helped
    to support the wounded man. "This way.  Where's the car?"  
    "'Round the block.  Jesus, Stan, what's going on?" 
     
    Kowalski didn't answer.  He shouldn't have let things go this far.  what
    if someone - what if Fraser got killed?  And since when was Turnbull
    decisive?  
    "In here.  Lay him on the couch.  Detective Kowalski, do you have a vest
    on?"  
    "Yeah," gasped Ray, easing himself down on his left side.  "Don't think
    it stopped it all the way.  My side's burning..."  
    "I'm calling Benny," announced Vecchio as Turnbull started to ease the
    layers of clothing off of Kowalski.  
    "Busy," muttered Vecchio, returning his cell phone to his pocket before
    helping the Seeker remove Kowalski's body armor.  There was a hole in
    the fibrous material and in the hole - a bullet.  The vest had slowed
    it enough that it hadn't done any serious damage. 
     
    "You're fortunate, Detective," said Turnbull.  Ray frowned in confusion.
    This was not the Turnbull he was used to.  "You're going to be in pain
    and very badly bruised, but I don't think there will be any permanent
    damage. Any other injuries?"  
    Ray shook his head, overwhelmed by his first day back to work. 
     
    "He drank holy water." Vecchio corrected. 
     
    Turnbull looked perplexed. "Why?" 
     
    "Some jerk put it in his coffee." 
     
    *** 
     
    Fraser was still on the phone with Sgt. Frobisher when Dief started to
    act strangely.  He wasn't begging for any of the steak Fraser was setting
    to marinade, for one thing, and he paced nervously amidst the pile of
    Ray's socks that he'd been playing with all morning. 
     
    "Sergeant, forgive me, but I believe something is upsetting Diefenbaker.
    I really must go.  I'll call you back, sir.  Good-bye."  
    When he turned to the living room, Fraser stared in astonishment.  
    
    Diefenbaker was frantic. 
     
    He was also a wolf. 
     
    He looked at Ray's caller ID box when the phone rang again. Ray Vecchio.
    "No." He grabbed the phone quickly, rubbing his eyebrow. "Kowalski residence."
    
    "Fraser, get down to the consulate office." 
     
    *** 
     
    "I'd better contact the Gangrel," Turnbull stated, handing Ray an ice
    pack. "They'll be able to help you."  
    "They told Fraser they couldn't. Something about a blood hunt." Ray sounded
    a little out of it. "Autarkis, or something."  
    "Oh." Turnbull sat back down. "What else did they tell him?" 
     
    "That I was s'ppsd to be clang eldridge of something." 
     
    "Clan elder. Oh dear." 
     
    "You sound like Frase...oh dear what?" 
     
    Turnbull shook his head, "They've called a blood hunt on you. They will
    reclaim Ellery's bloodline anyway that they can. Either you become clan
    elder, finish the letting ceremony or they kill you. Amaranth."  
    "Ama what?" 
     
    "Amaranth. They drain you dry." 
     
    "That...sounds...uggh......" 
     
    Turnbull frowned.  "Your options are extremely limited, I'm afraid."
    
    "What do you suggest?" asked Vecchio. 
     
    "I can't /suggest/ anything, Detective.  That's not my place.  I can
    answer your questions, though."  
    "Can you expand on the options?" 
     
    Kowalski listened, but did not hear as the voices wove around him.  The
    Seeker watched in growing concern as the blond slipped deeper into a
    stupor that was almost shock.  
    "If he becomes the clan elder he must also become a vampire and adhere
    to their ways.  He would be responsible for the leadership of this clan
    of Gangrel.  Becoming undead would be a condition of the agreement."
    
    "Okay. Next option." 
     
    "He finish the letting ceremony." 
     
    "What are his chances of survival?" 
     
    "In his condition?  He wouldn't have a chance." 
     
    "So basically, he dies, he dies, or he dies?" 
     
    "Unless we come up with a solution, yes." 
     
    "No pun intended, Seeker, but that sucks.  We need another option." 
    
    Kowalski shook his head, "I don't want to die." He was staring right
    at Vecchio when he said it. He watched in confusion as the other detective
    suddenly became slack jawed. "Vecchio?"  
    "Oh...what'd you do?" 
     
    "Dunno..." 
     
    Turnbull waved his hand in front of Vecchio's eyes. Nothing. "Mesmer.
    Look away, Detective Kowalski."  
    Ray did, and Vecchio snapped out of it. "What was that?" 
     
    "A problem." 
     
    *** 
     
    Fraser and Dief took the stairs two at a time. He stared at the door
    of the consulate, gripping the brim of his Stetson, almost afraid to
    go in. "Ray."  
    He pushed it open, letting Dief go first. Back in human form, the werekid
    ran unerringly through the unfamiliar building, straight to a back office
    where he clambered onto Ray.  The detective smiled warmly and let Dief
    give him a once over to assure the boy he would be fine. 
     
    Fraser stared in shock at the bruise, and Ray's clammy pallor. "What
    happened?"  
    The Seeker replied, "The hunt has started, Constable.  Nowhere is safe
    for him."  
    "Our options aren't so hot, either," said Ray Vecchio. "And now he's...mesmerizing
    people."  
    "Our?" wondered Fraser hopefully. 
     
    Vecchio looked self-conscious. "Had a lot of long talks with a lot of
    people.  Yeah. Our options."  
    He had spoken to everyone from Welsh to Turnbull to Stella to his brother-in-law
    Tony, who was reluctant to lose Kowalski if only to keep a decent mechanic
    in the family. 
      
    The Mountie favored his friend with that rare, warm smile that showed
    such gratitude and love.  "Thank you, Ray," he breathed.  
    "So now what?" asked Kowalski, looking away from Dief. "All of you are
    in danger around me."  
    "Even I am," admitted Turnbull.  Kowalski just looked at him as if he
    was unhinged.  
    "Then I gotta leave." 
     
    "They'll hunt you down like a dog, Kowalski," Vecchio shook his head.
    "You leaving is not an option."  
    "Then what?" 
     
    "I'll contact Calhoun," Turnbull said quietly, dialing the phone. He
    had been in contact with the Gangrel twice since the attack on Ray, once
    to wring an oath out of the clan and then to see them safely removed
    from Hell.  
    "Lemme do it." 
     
    "Why?" 
     
    "Because. Now gimme the phone," he grabbed it from Turnbull. Ray waited,
    bursting in when the vampire answered. "What do I gotta do to fix this?"
    
    "Pardon me?" 
     
    "The blood hunt. Is there a way to stop it without dying?" Ray demanded.
    
    "The letting..." 
     
    "No. No way am I letting an entire clan of vamp-" Ray said quickly. 
    
    "You'll want to transfer the blood, then." As Ray listened, he tried
    to ignore Dief's plaintive whimpers and his own swelling revulsion. He
    finally  gave the wolf kid a quick hug. 
     
    "Can your people run some interference until I get there?  Good."  He
    hung up, looking at the phone rather than his friend.  
    "Ray," threatened Fraser, already hating this. 
     
    "Frase...I've gotta do this." 
     
    "Do WHAT?" demanded the Mountie, both hands on Kowalski's shoulders.
    
    Mouth open, Ray was about to answer when the door was smashed in and
    a dozen or more vampires swarmed in on them.  
    Vecchio had his gun out in a second, knowing full well one gun against
    12 vampires wasn't going to do the trick. He heard Dief growling and
    snarling and was nearly bowled over to hear the same from Kowalski. 
    
    For one awful moment, everything was still as a strong voice protested
    the interruption.  
    "This is Seeker territory," Turnbull snapped. "Protected from the blood
    hunt, you can't just..." He started when they hissed at him. He saw Fraser
    grab a stake from a drawer and shrugged. Well, technically the consulate
    /was/ Canada. 
     
    Then all hell broke loose. 
     
    It was fighting the likes of which Ray Vecchio had never seen.In the
    cramped space of the office there was hardly any room to move and no
    time to think as the vampires threw themselves at... 
    
    Kowalski. 
     
    Wielding a stake like a dagger, Fraser impaled the first one that got
    too close to the blond.  A howl of fury rose from the throats of the
    offended vampires as the first of their number fell.  A shot rang out
    and another  dropped as a silver bullet from Vecchio's gun ripped through
    the undead flash, splattering gore across the wall.  
    "Stan!"  screamed Vecchio as a vampire, distracted from her target by
    the shot, turned her attentions on him.  "Get your gun out!"  
    Kowalski ignored the advice.  He didn't need a weapon. Like it or not,
    he had the blood of an Elder, and a powerful one, in his veins and he
    /was/ a weapon.  
    "Ray!" screamed a woman's voice, and he saw Irene's panicked face as
    the vampire lunged at Vecchio.  
    Diefenbaker, in wolf's form, leaped forward, but Kowalski was faster
    and he moved with inhuman speed, placing himself between Vecchio and
    the vampire in the blink of an eye.  
    She hesitated in surprise as the true object of her attack suddenly presented
    itself, but it was already too late.  
    Snarling, he lashed out, all conscious thought gone, his fingers splayed
    like the claws of an animal.  Talons could not have been sharper as he
    struck, ripping long, gaping wounds across the female's face and body.
    She crumbled, screaming, and with Diefenbaker at his side, he turned
    to the rest of their attackers.  
    Fraser and Turnbull had accounted for two more, though Turnbull had a
    bloody scrape on one side of his face.  When Dief growled, a similar
    noise rose from his pack mate's throat and all eyes turned on the werewolf
    and the despised Autarkis. 
     
    The humans stared in a mixture of shock and horror.  The remaining vampires,
    ignoring their deceased and the wounded, looked on with comprehension
    and fear, suddenly aware of what they were challenging.  
    It was impossible to tell which of the two was the more savage.  Kowalski
    almost smiled. They wanted this, not him.  They would regret their decision.
    
    Suddenly, silent as shadows, the Gangrel arrived, dark and dangerous
    as they came to the aid of their own.  Six members of the clan that would
    claim Ray as their leader slid into the room and the invading hunters
    knew they were doomed.  As the fight began anew, the younger vampires
    fought like there was no escape.  They were right.  
    Between the Slayers and the Gangrel, the werewolf and the detective,
    the hunters stood no chance.  One of the Gangrel seized Kowalski by the
    arm as the rest of the room fought, dragging him towards the door.  
    "Go," she hissed. 
     
    He blinked, coming back to himself.  The savage was gone, back to the
    blackness within him that had released it.  His ribs ached again, he
    was afraid again.  For one confused moment he stared at her.  She had
    once forced him to drink her blood. A time as hideous as this... 
     
    They never saw Ray leave. 
     
    Nor did they hear him hot wire Vecchio's car. 
     
    *** 
     
    He sat in front of the building number Calhoun had given him, breathing
    hard. He didn't want to do this. He had a really bad feeling about it.
    But what else was there to do?  
    He was barely aware he got out of the car and with reluctant steps he
    moved towards the abandoned business.  His only thoughts were of Fraser
    and the danger he placed the Mountie in every moment.  He could not live
    if anything ever happened to Fraser.  He'd discovered that long ago.
    He knew the Canadian would not understand his decision, would have talked
    himself blue in face to stop him, but Calhoun was right.  There was no
    other way.  
    The door was open and he entered the dusty structure, making his way
    into the back room. Calhoun was waiting for him and he stood a cautious
    distance away.  
    "They found you?" 
     
    "Which ones?" grunted Kowalski.  He pulled off his glasses and rubbed
    his sching eyes.  "So...what's the deal here?"  
    "You could still choose to become our clan elder." 
     
    "Oh, yeah, right, resident human clan elder." 
     
    "You're right."  Calhoun smiled slightly at the image. "They'd follow
    you, but not very willingly."  
    "Like I care.  All I want to do is protect Fraser from all this.  that,
    and I want my life back."  
    "I can't promise that. I can't promise that you'll survive a letting
    and even if you do, the changes to your body are permanent."  
    "I wish Ellery was alive so I could kick 'em in the head." 
     
    "I can see why he chose you."  Calhoun locked eyes with him.  "Shall
    we begin?"  
    An instant later, before a word of protest could pass Ray's lips, the
    elder pro-temp had rushed him, slamming him violently to the floor, pinning
    his wrists as he used his greater weight to hold Kowalski down.  
    Instinctively, Kowalski struggled, but Calhoun was the stronger and cursed
    in fury at the assault, at having his decision made so viciously.  
    He was barely ready when Calhoun's fangs ripped through his neck, opening
    the scars from before. His legs kicked out, fingers digging into Calhoun's
    hair. Torn against pulling the guy away or making him do it, making him
    get  rid of the poison in him. 
     
    Calhoun pulled away, lips stained with blood. He stared at Ray, thinking.
    Suddenly he pulled Ray's head back for better access and attacked again.
    
    Ray winced at the guzzling noises and stared at the dust patterns on
    the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the pain. He was distracted
    from /that/ when Calhoun pulled him into a half sitting position, biting
    down  hard. "Oh..." He head fell back, lolling. 
     
    He couldn't stop it, couldn't move if he wanted to. Not now. 
     
    //You realise that it's your fault. That I am where I am, and you are
    where you are.//  
    His eyes fluttered open, he could see brown boots and brown panted legs.
    Frase? No. The voice was familiar, but not Fraser. "Wha..."  
    His eyes shut again at the barrage of images. Fraser's dad. A gun. Muldoon.
    No.  
    Calhoun bit harder. "Stop that." 
     
    "s-s-sorry..." Ray's vision was swirling. He cried out as the vampire
    dug in again.  
    //He's going to let you die. Drain you dry, yank. You deserve it.// 
    
    "Stop..." Ray's turn to protest. He pushed at Calhoun's shoulder, weakly.
    "Too much...you're taking..."  
    The vampire ignored him, pushing him back to the floor, using his fangs
    to make the wounds deeper. To speed up the letting. Ray felt drops of
    blood escape, and drip onto the floor like the tears now falling down
    his face.  
    //You aren't even trying. Pathetic.// 
     
    "No..." Ray pulled at Calhoun's hair. "Stop..." 
     
    The noises got worse, the guzzling turning into the squelching noise,
    becoming a complete feasting. He couldn't feel his legs. "Please. Stop."
    
    "Almost finished." 
     
    "No...No." 
     
    "Quiet." 
     
    "FRAAAAASSSSSSSERRRRRR!!!" 
     
    *** 
     
    Carnage. 
     
    There were bodies piled around the office and the smell was staggering,
    but they had won.  The Gangrel stood by dispassionately as the humans
    recovered.  
    "Where is Ray?" demanded Fraser.  He was as pale as death as he realised
    the American was gone.  "Where. Is. He?"  
    Turnbull, covering the scrape on his jaw, looked about wide-eyed.  "Ray?
    He's gone to Calhoun?"  
    The female vampire headed for the door, followed by the Gangrel.  "We
    have done our part.Your friend must do his."  
    Fraser lunged after her, seizing her arm.  It was as cold and hard as
    stone.  
    "Another letting will kill him!" 
     
    "He must die eventually, Slayer." 
     
    "Not like this.  Where are they?" 
     
    "I don't know." 
     
    *** 
     
    "Wh-where are you?" whispered Ray, growing faint even as the pain from
    Calhoun's bite increased.  
    "Quiet," growled the vampire again. 
     
    His voice was a pathetic whimper.  "...don't..." 
     
    //You stopped my son from going after Muldoon.If you hadn't, I could
    have warned him about you...and you about Calhoun.//  
    He opened his eyes.  A silver-haired Mountie was gazing down at him.
    Frobisher?  No.  
    //You're nearly dead.  That's the only reason you can see me.  I'm not
    like your other dead friends, Yank.//  
    Son?  His son? 
     
    "Fraser." 
     
    //You going to fight or die, Yank?  If you die, I know my son will, too,
    and I don't want that.  I know you're a fighter.  Jump Bogart on this
    bastard or something along those lines.//  
    Blackness filled his vision. 
     
    //Better make it fast. It's what got all of us to 
    this point.  Use it, for god's sake.// 
     
    His movements were slow and forced, but he was able to get his fingers
    under Calhoun's chin. Gripped the back of his head. Pulled. Nothing.
    "Let go of me..." he whispered, weakening.  
    //Oh, yeah...that'll tell him.// 
     
    Ray fell back, shoving harder, kicking with his feet. Calhoun fell back.
    "I said...let go..." He stumbled to his feet, clutching his neck to stop
    the bleeding. "Oh...God...Fraser..." He fell, everything going black.
    
    //Well. So much for that then.// 
     
    *** 
     
    Fraser looked over as Dief suddenly growled, running out the door. He
    stared after, and finally followed. "Dief must know..."  
    He didn't bother to see if they followed. 
     
    *** 
     
    He felt Calhoun lifting him, brushing his fingers aside.  He could only
    feel, not see or hear. A numbness possessed him save for the burning
    at his throat as Calhoun's fangs penetrated once more.  
    And then the flash came. 
     
    He couldn't even scream this time. 
     
    He could see fire. A burning. He could feel the burning. He could hear
    screaming, not him and not Calhoun. But thousands of people...no vampires...screaming
    as they burned. 
     
    Gehenna. 
     
    He felt Calhoun pull away, swearing and carrying him to the desk. Hands
    at his face, trying to pull open his eyes. Nothing.  
    "Autarkis," hissed Calhoun.  "Autarkis!  Kowalski!" 
     
    The slap had almost no effect. Ray Kowalski was too weak to respond.
    He was shivering, as much from the flash as the cold and his emotional
    state. Dying. He was dying.  Calhoun had killed him.  
    //If you die, my son dies.// 
     
    He could not die. 
     
    Calhoun was staring at him, knowing what it was he had just been given
    a glimpse of.  The pain he could master. The vision, though...  
    Another vision.  The Slayer autarkis was so obsessed with, turning to
    face the fire that destroyed the vampires.  Turning to fight it.  To
    save Calhoun's people.  
    "...fraser..." murmured Kowalski at the picture in his mind's eye.  
    
    An older man, dressed as a Slayer, wise and calm, walking towards him.
    He addressed Calhoun directly, well aware of the tentative link formed
    by Kowalski's mind.  
    //You need my son, pro-temp.  My son needs this man.  If you kill him,
    you kill yourself. The choice is yours.//  
    So close.  He was so close to having all of Ellery... 
     
    The Slayer addressed Kowalski. //You know I'm right.  Besides, he's about
    to kill you.//  
    Calhoun thought quickly, running through both visions in his head. He
    could hear people outside, talking. A dog barking. He rolled the autarkis
    onto his side, tearing at his own wrist with his teeth. "Kowalski." 
     
    "mm?" //Just go away. You got what you want...// Ray felt the first few
    drops of blood at his lips and gagged against it.  
    "No. Drink. Quickly, or you will die. Do you want to die?" He forced
    the blood down the detective's throat, careful to only allow a little
    bit before pulling away. "Listen to me."  
    "What...?" 
     
    "I saw your vision. I'm taking the clan out of this town, back to the
    territories. Except the get. The younger vampires. I'm leaving them here.
    In your care."  
    "Don't...don't want to be..." 
     
    "I'm not going to make you a vampire, don't worry about that. The get
    don't know enough not to follow a non vampire clan leader, and I'll make
    sure the  blood hunt is called off. Do you agree?" He had to work quickly,
    Calhoun looked up, abruptly.  
     
    //Do it, yank. He'll kill ya if you don't.// 
     
    "Ok...fi...." 
     
    *** 
     
    "...where the hell to start lookin' for him," grumbled Vecchio. 
     
    They were assembled on the front lawn of the temporary consolate, trying
    to formulate a plan of action with little success.  Turnbull had turned
    off the Seeker and was babbling incessantly about the mess in the Inspector's
    office and should he remove the Queen's portrait from the now-defiled
    foyer.  
    Fraser was ignoring him, his eyes distant and a heaviness upon his heart.
    He'd felt this before, in the hospital last month as Lady Killer attacked
    his Ray.  
    "...Ray..." 
     
    "Benny!" 
     
    "Sir!  Are you all right?" 
     
    Fraser swayed where he stood, looking about to faint.  He felt strong
    hands steady him as Dief continued to tear about, frantic in his search.
    
    "Ray..." 
     
    Suddenly Vecchio's cell phone rang and all three men jumped in surprise.
    He yanked it out."Vecchio."  
    "One eighty-three Chesterton Ave, in the back," said a stern voice. 
    "Get an ambulance there fast, he needs a transfusion."  
    "Calhoun?  What did you do to him, you son-of-a-bi-" 
     
    "He's still alive, Vecchio.  If you want him to stay that way, move."
    
    "How long do we have?" 
     
    "Not long. I'm going to give him my phone." 
     
    "Kowalski? You there?" 
     
    "mm?" 
     
    "Are you all right?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Vecchio
    felt stupid. He felt Fraser grab the phone out of his hands and worked
    on getting them all into the consulate's car. 
     
    Fraser held the phone tight in his fingers. "Ray?" He was shaking badly.
    "Ray, are you there?"  
    "...Frase?" 
     
    "Yes." He shivered at the pain in Ray's voice. "Ray, what have you done?"
    
    "Worked a deal..." Ray's voice was slurred. Weak. 
     
    //More than a deal...// 
     
    Fraser froze at the sound of his father's voice on the phone line. "Ray,
    who...?"  
    "my fault...your dad...m'sorry..." 
     
    "What're you talking about? Ray? Ray...?" 
     
    *** 
     
    As Ray blacked out, he let the phone drop to the floor. Completely oblivious
    to Calhoun and the Hunters leaving him there. Alone.  
    *** 
     
    Fraser jumped out of the car first, followed by Dief. The wolf practically
    had to climb through Vecchio. They ran into the building, shocked to
    see Kowalski lying on the desk in the office.  
    "Oh dear God..." Turnbull saw the blood on the floor, and on Ray's neck,
    swallowing the bile trying to come up. "He let them do it..."  
    Fraser felt Ray's wrist for a pulse, finding it slow and thready. "Call
    for help." He wiped the blood off Ray's lips with his fingers. "Ray?
    Are you awake?"  
    "Hmm...?" Ray's eyes fluttered but didn't open. "Frase?" 
     
    "I'm here. Stay still." 
     
    "Whatsa get?" 
     
    "What?" 
     
    "A get...what is it?" 
     
    For one stunned and confounded instant, Benton Fraser had no answer.
    Finally he stammered, "Uh...it's-it's Irish slang for an idiot."  
    Turnbull shook his head, recognizing the babbling Constable verses the
    in-control constable.  
    Confusion filled Kowalski's face and he wondered, "I gotta baby sit a
    buncha stupid Irish vampires?"  
    Turnbull stepped closer.  "Sir?  If I may?  A get, detective, is a newly
    made vampire."  
    "mm," grunted Kowalski as Dief nuzzled his limp hand. 
     
    "An ambulance is on it's way.  It's refueling about five blocks from
    here, it won't be long and the hospital knows he's coming," said Vecchio.
    He stripped off he coat and brought it to Fraser. "Here."  
    Gently, Fraser wrapped the frail blond in the warm wool coat, gathering
    Ray into his arms.  
    "Frase?" 
     
    "Don't talk, Ray.  Shh.  Help will be here soon." 
     
    "Don' let me go," slurred the American. 
     
    "Never." 
     
    "Cold, Frase." 
     
    "Let me warm you." 
     
    The Mountie's strong arms pulled him closer.  Ray could feel the rough
    red fabric against his cheek.  He wanted to return the embrace, wanted
    to feel Fraser against him, the warmth, the love.  
    "S-stay...wit...mmm..." 
     
    "Always," promised Fraser.  "I love you." 
     
    He smiled, feeling the blackness calling, resisting its pull.  "Love...y..."
    
    Turnbull saw the blood on Fraser's fingers, and frowned. "They must have
    tried to keep him alive..."  
    Fraser sniffed the blood oblivious to Vecchio's aghast stare. "It's Ellery's."
    
    "Ew...Benny..." Vecchio let that sink in. "Wait. They drained him, then
    fed it back to him? And what was all that about baby sitting stupid Irish
    vampires?"  
    "I suspect he was hallucinating." 
     
    Turnbull shook his head, "I doubt that." He picked a note off the desk.
    "It would seem that Calhoun deliberately spared his life /and/ has left
    the detective in charge of a small clan of his own."  
    *** 
     
    Welsh put down the phone and looked at Frannie. "Get Huey and Dewey down
    to the hospital. They can be first in line for blood donations."  
    "Sir?" She smiled, half heartedly. 
     
    "We'll call it a make up gift." 
     
    The smile broadened.  Maybe she could ask the hospital staff to make
    it hurt.  A lot.  
    *** 
     
    "...fras...er...?" 
     
    "Shh."The Mountie smoothed Ray's cold forehead, leaning over the bed
    where his partner and friend had lain unmoving for almost a day.  "Shh.
    You need to sleep, Ray."  
    "...s-sorry..." 
     
    "Why?  What for?" 
     
    "Yer dad," whispered Ray.  "S'my fault he was ban-bani-kicked outta this
    plane."  
    "Ray, I don't understand...What has my father got to do with this?" 
    
    He lifted Ray's long, thin hand and held it in both of his.  The American
    was still in serious condition, never having fully recovered from the
    events of last month when they had dealt with Lady Killer. The doctors
    and shamen had assured Fraser that given time and rest, Ray would be
    restored to his kinetic self.  The physical changes wrought by Ellery's
    blood were permanent but manageable and they had left it to Fraser to
    keep the detective calm as he recovered.  
    "Muldoon," Ray continued in a faint voice.  "I stopped you from chasing
    after him."  
    "Ray, you had a flash.You were stuck in an ice crevass with me, you had
    lost a lot of blood, and you were suffering from hypothermia and exposure."
    
    "I coulda...stayed 'wake.  Yer Dad offed Muldoon.  He broke the rules.He
    interfered.  He got exiled from our plane.  If I hadn't stopped ya, /you/
    would have gotten Muldoon."  
    "Why did you stop me, Ray?" wondered Benton.  He was not upset with the
    past.  It was done.  He just wanted to know.  
    Ray coughed, wincing in pain as the muscles in his neck and chest constricted.
    His side where he'd been hit by the bullet ached with each breath and
    movement and his throat was beyond pain.  
    Fraser fetched him some water and held the cup steady as the blond drank.
    Ray's eyes, black and fever-bright, looked to Diefenbaker lying next
    to him on the bed.  
    
    The were-child was asleep, his tiny hand holding Ray's in a gesture of
    absolute trust that brought a smile to the detective's bloodless lips.
    
    Fraser caught the affectionate look.  "You're his pack-mate, Ray."  
    
    "Makes me glad." 
     
    "Ray?" 
     
    He turned back to the Mounted Slayer expectantly. 
     
    "Why did you stop me?" 
     
    In a voice that trembled, he replied, "'Cause I love you.  I saw you
    falling down a mine shaft.  I couldn't live if you died.  I was afraid."
    
    "Oh, Ray..." 
     
    He looked away, knowing only anger could follow such a confession. "...sorry..."
    
    "Oh, Ray, no.  No."  He lifted Ray's chin, then ran his hand down his
    cheek and brushed his fingers across the cold lips.  
    "No?" He squeezed Fraser's hand, glad that his friend wasn't angry. 
    
    "No." 
     
    "I love you." He bent down, "And if you /ever/ do anything like that
    again..."  
    "You'll kill me?" 
     
    "No. Probably not." Fraser smiled, "But I'll tell you inuit stories."
    
    "Swear ta god I'll never do that again, Frase.Yer dad...?" 
     
    Fraser shrugged, still smiling.  "Spoke to him on the phone yesterday."
    
    *** 
     
    Ray paced in front of Welsh's desk. "They can't continue this. They could
    have killed him with that stunt with the coffee."  
    "I've talked with them, Detective. They say they didn't do it. They're
    trying to find out who did."  
    "That's not good enough!" 
     
    Welsh leaned back in his chair.  He was mildly surprised to have Vecchio
    of all people in here defending Kowalski - the two barely tolerated breathing
    the same air and the only thing that kept them civil was six feet tall,
    and wore red serge and a Stetson.  "They've learned a lesson, Vecchio,
    and when we find out who spiked the coffee and sent that dime, they'll
    be up on charges of aggravated assault on a police officer.  If we can
    make the charge stick, I may even upgrade it to attempted murder.  That
    make you happy?"  
    Vecchio nodded.  That was the course of action he'd wanted.  If they
    caught them...if Stella was the prosecutor...yeah, he'd be happy.  
    *** 
     
    Fraser brushed his fingers against the bandage on Ray's neck, gently.
    "You'll be ok. The doctors say..."  
    "Screw the doctors. What do you think?" 
     
    "I think you'll be ok." He smiled, gently. "Turnbull said something about
    Calhoun leaving you a get."  
    "Mm..." He frowned, not totally understanding the implications of what
    he'd agreed to.  Then Ray took a breath. "I had a flash."  
    "Do you want to tell me about it?" 
     
    "Fire.Lotsa fire and screamin'.  Vampires were dyin' and I saw you tryin'
    ta help them.  You were turnin' around and lookin' up at something...BIG."
    
    "Do you know what?" 
     
    "No.  Then I saw yer dad talking to Calhoun.  Tellin' Calhoun he needed
    you and you needed me."  
    "He was right. Ray?" 
     
    "Yeah?" 
     
    Still leaning close, he traced a finger across Ray's lips.  "Would you
    mind terribly if I kissed you?"  
    "Uh, no, I would not mind, Frase.  Matter of fact, I'd love it if you
    would."  
    "Ben." He said, mock sternly and kissed Ray gently. He didn't want to
    hurt him, sure that any amount of exertion Probably would. He felt Ray's
    hand, the one with the IV stuck in the back of it touch his face, pulling
    him  closer. 
     
    "Ahem." 
     
    They both jumped at the sound of Calhoun's voice, turning towards the
    door.  
    "Apologies on disturbing you, Elder Kowalski. I thought it prudent to
    check up on your progress."  
    "Jeez...talks like a Mountie." Ray muttered, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine.
    Thanks." He sounded not the least bit sarcastic.  
    "You look it," Calhoun /had/ been a Mountie. A /long/ time ago. He smiled,
    briefly. "Your get...your clan is downstairs. They'll come up when invited."
    
    *** 
     
    Turnbull opened the book, staring at the sketches of what Calhoun had
    described from Ray's flash. Or what he'd seen of it. "Gehenna." He shook
    his head. The end of vampire kind. Or at least all that weren't ancient.
    Like  Lilith. Like Caine. "Dear God..." 
     
    Was this a bad thing? 
     
    Was this a /good/ thing? 
     
    He rubbed the bridge of his nose, slamming the book shut when Thatcher
    entered. She took in the bloody walls and stared at him. "What the hell
    happened here?"  
    "Ah, yes, Inspector.  We were attacked." 
     
    Thatcher glared.  "Were you now?  By what, Turnbull?" 
     
    He swallowed.  "The local clans called a blood hunt on Detective Kowalski
    and-"  
    "I don't want to hear another word, Constable.This entire office is to
    be cleaned and purified by tomorrow.  I'll take the front office."  
    He gulped again.  "Yes, ma'am.Shall I make some tea?" 
     
    "Turnbull!" 
     
    *** 
     
    "My get?" wondered Ray. 
     
    "Remember?" prompted Fraser.  "The uh, Irish vampires you were baby sitting?"
    
    "I am? Oh. Yeah. I think. Uh...what exactly am I supposed to do?" He
    looked nervously at the vampire that had almost killed him. Twice.  
    Calhoun considered.  "They will obey you.  In return, you are expected
    to guide and care for them. We are Gangrel. We are very solitary creatures,
    so you'll probably see very little of them unless you call or they need
    advice." 
     
    "How do you call 'em?  We talking phone?  Smoke signals? Messenger pigeon?"
    
    "Carrier Pigeon, Ray." 
     
    "Whatever." 
     
    "However you like.  You'll know." 
     
    "Great." 
     
    "Will you see them?" pressed Calhoun.  He seemed almost anxious that
    Ray accept them willingly after he had forced them on the detective.
    
    Ray looked at Fraser and the Slayer smiled. More family. Ghosts, humans,
    werewolves, demons, and vampires.  Ray could tell Fraser was somehow
    amused and touched.  
    //Touched is right.// 
     
    He turned to Calhoun.  "Yeah." 
     
    The vampire looked relieved. "Good." He paused. "The blood hunt was called
    off."  
    "Thank you." 
     
    *** 
     
    Calhoun went down to the waiting room, and smiled at the young vampires.
    They weren't all teenagers, just two. The other was in her late twenties.
    They were capable. But recently made.  
    Perfect for Kowalski. "He'll see you now." 
     
    *** 
     
    Ray was almost asleep again when the three vampires entrusted to him
    filed into the darkened room.  He was surprised at their appearance -
    the first was Asian and he looked like a college geek complete with glasses
    and sneakers.  The next was a chubby teenage girl with soft brown eyes
    and freckles.  The last was a taller woman, a little younger than he
    was and teetering between simply pretty and beautiful. They were respectfully
    silent, waiting to be addressed first.  
    Fraser cleared his throat, prompting his partner and rousing the werechild.
    Ray drew a deep breath, flinching as his ribs protested.  
    "Hi." 
     
    Calhoun took over, knowing Kowalski was about to pass out with the effort
    of staying awake."This is Elder Kowalski. I am leaving you in his care.
    His blood is mine, the line of Ellery.  Look to him and he will guide
    you.This  is Slayer Benton Fraser - no, Jay." He addressed the boy when
    he stiffened at the mention of their traditional enemy. "He will not
    harm you, nor you him. He is of the elder's people.  And this last is
    Diefenbaker, your  elder's..."  He looked at Ray curiously, not sure
    of what title to give to the relationship between man and wolf.  
    "Son," provided Fraser as the werewolf considered the three newcomers.
    
    "You will flourish and profit under their care." 
     
    Kowalski raised his eyes to Fraser's. "They don' look Irish." 
     
    Fraser's eyes glowed with amusement and he had his mouth open to answer
    when the nurse in charge of the floor, a woman whom Ray was convinced
    was the reincarnation of Atilla the Hun, charged into the room loaded
    for bear.  
    "Out! Out! All of you out! Constable, be ashamed! Visiting hours are
    over and the detective needs to rest!"  
    "Yes, ma'am," Fraser replied dutifully.  He looked up the retreating
    get. "Come back," he invited, then caught Calhoun's eye.  The elder nodded
    his approval, then they left.  
    Ray was asleep.  Dief whined. 
     
    "Yes, I like them, too." 
     
    *** 
     
    Two weeks Later: 
     
    They were walking together, Fraser and Vecchio, talking about old times
    and on how Huey, Dewey and Vecchio's search for the coffee poisoners
    was going when they heard a howling coming from behind the consulate.
    Vecchio paused, turning to his former partner and friend. "Benny?"  
    "Probably just Diefenbaker." Fraser nodded, confidently. He wasn't prepared
    for the second howling. A second voice. One not totally expected.  
    "Turnbull?" 
     
    "Howling? I think not, Ray." They headed back, quietly. Trying to sneak
    up on whatever was making the noises.  
    A third, then a fourth, then almost reluctantly a fifth joined in the
    howling. Fraser smirked inwardly. Ray had taken quite well to being impromptu
    clan elder. Though, he had some strange ideas on what that meant.  
    They came upon Ray and Dief, in werekid form, sitting on the dirt of
    the backyard. Howling, or rather, baying at the moon. The Get was standing
    by the fence, doing the same. Albeit reluctantly.  
    Vecchio was convinced that his jaw was actually touching the ground.
    And was that a look of amused affection on Benny's face. No. Couldn't
    be. "Benny?"  
    "Yes?" 
     
    "What're they um...doing?" 
     
    "Well...they appear to be howling, Ray." Fraser smiled. And then joined
    in.  
    Vecchio shook his head, "You're all nuts. I never should have left."
    
    Kowalski spotted Vecchio and waved him over to join the pack. 
     
    He grinned, and joined in.  What was another suit?  Within minutes they
    had a harmony going and Dief was almost too excited to sit still long
    enough to howl. They were on the verge of rivalling the Mormon Tabernacel
    Choir when there came a crashing sound off in the bushes by the consolate,
    then a husky voice snapped,  
    "Animal Control!" 
     
    Silence.  Caught! 
     
    The stocky man cleared his throat.  "Uh, 'scuse /me,/ ladies and gentlemen,
    but I just got a call from some guy by the name a' Unstable Rentfree
    Turnballs sayin' there's a pack of wolves here in Canada'a back yard.
    Yous  wouldn't happen to know anything about that now, would yous?" 
     
    They were mute.  This was a job for Fraser.  The Mountie cleared his
    throat in turn, rising to his feet from where he was sitting between
    two Rays and said, "Actually, Warden, we were-"  
    The man squinted.  "Hey, Vecchio!  That you?" 
     
    All eyes turned to Ray. 
     
    "It's me!  Vito Jr.!  Vito's kid!  Remember?  Sister Barbara Walbergia's
    class? Whatcha doin' back here, Raimundo?  Wait'll I tell the guys back
    at  the precinct you're howlin' at da moon!  They'll never believe it!"
    
    Ray stared with a frozen half-smile on his pale face.  He swallowed.
    "Yeah. Here's hoping."  
     
    TBC 
    
    


End file.
